


Hallelujah

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-13 06:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Remus has loved her for as long as he can remember. But love is not a victory march; it’s sacrifice and struggle and he’ll fight for her until the day he dies.





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Fairest of the Rare’s Sing Me a Rare: The Soundtracks. While this is a comp, I am not participating in the awards because I am an admin and not eligible. I do hope you all head to the collection and check out the amazing rare pair stories. The authors have been hard at work and have churned out some wonderful stories!
> 
> Song prompt: Hallelujah, Rufus Wainwright, Shrek
> 
> Infinite and unending love to my beautiful soul of an alpha, **mcal**.

His favorite thing was her whimsical personality. Not to mean that she was fanciful or even playful, no. Not Narcissa Black. Her whimsy lay in her more mercurial nature. That she could sit in his presence with her ankles crossed and sip high end tea one moment, and the next, seduce his carnal nature with a flick of her silken hair and quirk of her perfectly bowed lips. In the turn of a moment, she could bring him straight to his knees with a crook of her elegantly decorated finger.

Narcissa was never cruel. Her love spoke to him on whispers and featherlight kisses to his cheek. She was cold, but fiery. Marble, but pliant under his fingertips.

Remus liked taking her the most. Buried to the hilt in her warmth. Nails raking down his back. Gasps, demands, and teeth sinking into his shoulder. He could live forever in the moment when she breathed his name and fell over the edge of her climax. Perfectly undone and spent beneath him.

And it was always the last time. She’d shoo him out of her house through the window. And he’d poke his head back in just to claim her succulent lips one more time. She’d allow it and the hollow laugh that seized his heart would follow him as he scaled the wall of her home down to where his broom was tucked into the bushes.

When she became Narcissa Malfoy, he rebelled against it. At her wedding, wearing shabby hand-me-down robes and the stench of too much whiskey, Remus swept into the grand ballroom with Sirius on his heels, trying to talk him down. It didn’t work.

He declared his love for her that night and was promptly dragged from the room by the neck of his robes and flung to his knees into the dirt outside the door. By the time he’d gotten home that night, Sirius had to put him to bed because he’d been too pissed to walk.

He was halfway through a bottle of whiskey when he saw her again. Hair tied in a regal knot at the base of her neck, long silk robes of ivory hugging her curves as she sashayed into the hole-in-a-wall pub in Muggle Surrey. All eyes turned to her, except for his. He shoved his face further down into his drink and pretended he imagined it.

Her slender hand wrapped over his shoulder and Remus turned to see an obnoxious diamond ring encircling her finger. He growled, poured another two fingers of whiskey down his throat, and shrugged her off.

“Remus.” Her tone was sharp, like the snap of a whip. It rankled his wolf; those inflections were  _ his _ . “Stop behaving like a sullen teenage boy. Speak with me.”

“Fine.” He turned fully toward her. Knees parted, eyes cool as they landed on hers. “Fuck off.”

She had no patience for him and rolled her pale blue eyes to the heavens. “Really? Is that necessary?”

He reached behind him, fumbled around for another tumbler of drink, and then winced as he took it in one gulp. He licked his lips and glared at her. “You asked for me to speak to you. I said all I wanted to say.”

The toe of her shoe clicked against the dark wooden floor as she shifted her weight. She leaned around Remus and addressed the bartender behind the bar. “Scotch neat. Chilled glass, top shelf.”

Remus raised a brow and followed the length of her pale neck until he settled on her high cheekbones. “Since when do you drink?”

“Since my doting husband decided it no longer suited him to remain faithful.” Narcissa’s lips bent into an impatient smile and she slid onto the stool next to him. “Would you mind terribly to pick up my tab? I’m afraid I don’t have any Muggle money.”

Remus chuckled darkly into the new drink placed in front of him. “Of course not. What good is Muggle money to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?”

She fingered her glass and pursed her lips. “You are so bloody ignorant, Remus Lupin. How can a man of your affliction believe such rotten stereotypes?”

“Married a Malfoy.” Remus held up a strict finger as he counted off her many sins. “Moved into his family manor. Took part in a fertility ritual as part of your wedding vows. Disavowed Albus Dumbledore. Threw your lot in with these masked murderers that’ve emerged. Oh, don’t think we don’t know what they’re up to and for whom.”

“Remus!”

There it was again. That bark, the sharp crack that made him want to straighten his spine or throw her down on the ground and — no. He shook his head and grumbled.

Narcissa glanced left and right and then stared straight ahead to the shelf of liquor across from them. “You mustn’t speak of such things so openly, Remus. It’s dangerous.”

“No one is going to  _ fuck _ with me, love. D’you know why?” He leaned in, conspiratorial and playful before his eyes narrowed and muscles tightened. He whispered over her face, fanning it with the spicy fragrance of alcohol. “I’m a fucking  _ werewolf _ .”

She didn’t react. She never reacted and it drove him spare. Instead, she sipped from her glass and ran her thumb down its cool surface. “Are you quite done? I’ve come to find you for a reason and you’re wasting our time with your moody tantrum.”

His shoulders slumped. Remus ducked his chin and let his gaze fall to his empty glass. “You purposefully sought me out the night before the moon. That was your poor judgment, not mine.”

He felt her smile even if he couldn’t see it. It tugged on his heart. He dared not look at her, couldn’t stomach the idea of being soothed by the warmth in her eyes. Remus was a man roiling with tempered passion, but he’d easily be consumed by her fire, as paper over flames.

Narcissa swallowed the rest of her drink and watched him. She had a way of holding the attention of a room that could set him on edge. “Can we go to your home? Somewhere private?”

He tossed a few notes on the bar and led her from the pub without another word. Remus didn’t drag her to the nearest Apparition Point, but around the side of the seedy Muggle pub to a dark alley. A black cat jumped from a nearby skip and tore off in the opposite direction. It could sense the wolf, Remus decided, and that was fine by him. He loathed felines.

Narcissa’s delicate hand rested on his arm and she hissed his name as he dragged her deeper into the alley’s darkness. Her nose turned up when he turned to look at her. “Why are you bringing me here with the rubbish?”

A cheeky remark, one that would earn him a gasp, flitted through his mind, but he stifled it and instead backed her into the cool, red bricks behind her. His hands found purchase on her slender hips. The coarse fabric of her dress danced at his fingertips. He stood only a few inches taller than her with those bloody heels on her feet, but it was enough as he glanced down and into her eyes with a dark smirk on his lips.

“What do you want, Narcissa?” he asked as she shifted until the back of her heel collided with the wall. She raised her chin and Merlin, he wanted to sink into her right there where anyone could walk by and see. He wouldn’t, though. Not with that obscene ring glinting in the darkness.

“I’ve missed you.” It wasn’t breathless or sweet, but matter-of-fact and cursory.

“Your propensity for romance is my favorite thing about you,” he laughed, nearing her slowly because he just couldn’t fucking stop himself. When his nose touched her high cheekbone, he breathed her in, lilac and moonlight, and it sent his urges spiraling. “You’re killing me, Ciss.”

He’d fall down on his knees and beg if he thought it would change anything. But he knew how this would end, how it always ended for someone like him.

She placed her hands on his chest and curled her jeweled fingers into the shabby lapels of his coat. “Lucius doesn’t care what I do, Remus. He has his dalliances and I have mine.”

“Oh,” he chuckled humorlessly and drew back to catch her blue gaze, “I’m a dalliance to you, then? Fuck a werewolf for fun, is it?”

“I can hardly divorce Lucius Malfoy and marry you.” It stung just as she likely meant it to. Her eyes softened, a rarity, and only for a moment before they were hard and tight again. “If this is all that I can have with you, then yes, this is what I want.”

He withdrew his hand from her hip and raised it to her cheek. Remus traced her cheekbone and then let his thumb caress her bottom lip. She let him manipulate her, to study every small piece of her, before she dragged his head down and claimed his lips in a brutal kiss that took him entirely by surprise.

“I can’t—“ he pulled away and inhaled deeply. The feral parts of him rioted against moving away. Remus squeezed his eyes shut and staggered back. “It’s not right. I can’t live with only a piece of you, Narcissa. I want  _ all _ of you.”

Her hands landed on his face, hard and unrelenting as she pulled him back to her. Nose to nose. “This is all of me that is left. Take it, because it’s  _ yours _ .”

And so, he did.

Their mouths crashed together and he gave in. He let his instincts drive his actions, just the way she always liked. Hands everywhere. Lips punishing as he sought her tongue with his own. She’d shed his coat and reached for his buckle as he growled into her mouth and ripped her dress from chest to navel as if it were merely paper.

She breathed his name when he left her lips in favor of the pulse on her throat. Suckling the sensitive flesh that bruised under his lips, Remus snarled as her hand cupped him through his pants and stroked him roughly.

He was done for. Decision made. If this was all Narcissa could give him, he’d take every single second of it until the day he died.

* * *

He’d been cohabitating with the local werewolves for too long. His mind was going feral as they snipped and snarled at one another in the lead up to the full moon. It was the only good he could do in this blasted war, but it pitted him in the worst position. His instincts were animalistic; he’d fought so often that his body was covered in scars. When the moon rose full in the midnight sky, there was no humanity left. He couldn’t account for the horrors he’d committed and it slicked his soul with sickening darkness.

James begged him to come home. Sirius damn near got himself killed trying to get to Remus in the middle of a wolf den. If he hadn’t been transformed, he would have been ripped to shreds. He snarled, protecting his pack and then protecting his  _ kind _ , and he’d never been so fucking furious in all of his life.

That was, of course, until he was approached by a werewolf by the name of Aris Mulciber. Shaggy and covered in dark fur even in his human form. His eyes were dark like the night sky that clung to the glow of the waxing moon.

“The Dark Lord requires your presence,” he snipped, an angry slash parading as a smile. “You’re to apparate to him at headquarters. Alone.”

Be it ego or the alpha raging inside of him, Remus wasn’t afraid. The wolf he shared an existence with was made of steel. Remus nodded, a short jut of his chin, and watched as Mulciber marched back to the middle of camp.

“Why’s he want you?” a baritone bark asked.

If Remus was a wolf, his ears would pin back. Lord Voldemort was not a threat, but Fenrir? Fenrir was everything he hated about the world, and everything that terrified him about it. There’s a large scar on his torso that wouldn’t allow him to shunt his fear away. So close to the full moon, even his wolf was shirking to the dark recesses of his mind as his alpha approached.

Broad shouldered, incisors sharpened despite no bright moon hanging full and taunting in the velvety sky, nails like knives, and clothes so shabby it looked as if he’d changed into his wolf form while wearing them several times.

Remus’ shoulders dropped as Fenrir towered over him. “Not sure.”

“I’m the alpha,” he growled and Remus shrank back, making himself smaller. “It should be me that’s meeting this wizard. Not you, pup.”

If it were anyone else, Remus would have puffed his chest, grabbed them by the throat, and asked how they dare question his authority in camp. That was the proverbial bitch of being a beta — someone would always be his alpha.

A whine ripped from Remus’ throat and he bowed his head. “Shall I send my regrets, Greyback?”

Silence hung between them. The rustling of smaller animals in the brush nearby, the snap of jaws among his human comrades, they were nothing on the grinding of thought he could sense coming from Fenrir. A morbid, disturbing manwolf, Fenrir could order him to do anything and if Remus refused, his cover for The Order was blown.

Thick yellow and jagged nails sunk into Remus’ shoulder. He tentatively brought his eyes to find the unamused glint of his alpha.

“No.” His shoulder would be bruised tomorrow, deep gauges from the nails already dripped blood down his arm. “It would be unwise to resist this wizard… for now.”

A shiver chased up his spine. He was released and had to pace himself in retreating from Fenrir, lest he appear too eager to get out of his sight.  
  


* * *

Headquarters of the Death Eaters was at an old mansion in an old village that smelled like old people and old money.

Remus detested it immediately.

A musty, rotted smell permeated the air around him. It made it harder to sense danger or, worse, death. It reeked of mottled flesh and rusty blood. There was something serpentine in the air and it twisted his gut as he breached the foyer and walked hesitantly down the nicotine-tainted corridor where, at the end, a crackling fire was lit in an enormous sitting room.

“Lupin.” 

His name hissed through the room and the wolf inside snapped as if backed into a corner. Remus’ eyes flashed like a lighthouse in the dark of night, and he settled his gaze on a grimy chair. It’s high-backed wings were frayed and inlaid with deep crimson flowers that faded away against its cream colored background. Whoever, or whatever, sat in the chair, was too short for Remus to see without walking further into the room.

The raspy voice said his name again, an urgency wrapped around it like a coiled snake. “Stand before me, werewolf. Let your eyes fall on true immortality.”

It went against his instincts in a painful way. Shards of glass coated his gullet, sweat drenched his neck and back. Slowly, afraid that he might pounce if he approached too quickly, Remus stepped forward. The heat of the fireplace licked at his moist hands. For a moment, he thought he might transform.

But every thought ceased when his tight eyes landed on a serpent’s massive, scaly back. It moved like liquid on the dark mahogany floor, up the legs and arms of the chair, and finally around its master’s neck. Its thin, forked tongue slipped out and the hairs on Remus’ arms raised as the beast scented the air. Fangs flashed before the creature settled with its head resting on a cloaked lap.

One more step and Remus was face to face with The Dark Lord, a wizard who fashioned himself Lord Voldemort. Remus swallowed and felt every knotted lump in his throat. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, head slightly bowed.

“My Lord.” A slight murmur; enough to get lost in the sizzle of the fire.

“Step closer,” he said, the most frightening aspect was that he sounded friendly. Charming. “All the better to see you, friend.”

Hackles raised, but Remus did as he was bade. A short step and only a short space between them. The snake lifted its head, a lazy flick of its tongue. It hissed, but Lord Voldemort patted its head and quieted the beast.

“You called for me,” Remus whispered, lifting his eyes slowly. Where Remus was used to being a predator, being in the presence of such dark magic made him feel like prey.

Pale lips parted over sharp teeth. “I’m told that your pack—”

“Fenrir’s pack,” Remus inserts quickly. If anyone hiding in the shadows — and they  _ were _ , he could smell them — told Greyback that Remus attempted to usurp him as alpha, Remus would be dead.

“Indeed, Fenrir’s pack,” The Dark Lord agreed amicably. “It is rather scintillating news that the pack intends to expand. I find myself —  _ torn _ on the matter.”

“My Lord?” Remus tilts his head to the side, ear picking up the slight shift of something to his right.

“While I appreciate the pack’s willingness to grow for my cause—” He reached out with a slender, bony white hand and slid his fingertips over his pet snake’s head. As one might caress a lover. “I would be remiss if I didn’t caution you — or your sire — on the damage that young werewolves could cause my rather  _ surreptitious  _ uprising.”

“It is true,” Remus ducked his chin and met the red stare of his alpha’s master. The wolf inside clawed to get out, but Remus planted himself firmly in his spot. “Siring werewolves now would certainly get messy and hard to control.”

The responding glint in Voldemort’s eyes was, somehow, more uneasy than the widening grin on his serpentine face. Remus took an instinctive step away from it. The Dark Lord clapped his hands together.

“Excellent. Give word to your alpha, then.” Then his face turned serious; eyes narrowed, lips tugging a frown. “No new werewolves.”

Remus nodded his head once. “My Lord, is there anything else?”

“That will be all, Lupin.” Voldemort flicked his hand, dismissing Remus as if he were an insect. Remus turned and took a quick step out of range of the fire’s heat and Voldemort’s careful eye. Just before he crossed the threshold into the corridor, though, Voldemort issued a warning. “If your alpha disobeys my orders, I will not hesitate to take his head.”

Remus gulped the thick worry that built up in his throat. His feet carried him to the front of the house and out the door. He was halfway down the drive when another voice called out to him. A slippery voice, made of silk and menace.

“I thought you’d like to know, Lupin,” he said with a illt indicating a smirk as widely known as his name, “my wife is with child.”

His heart seized. Blood froze. The work of the fire to drench him in a hot sweat was undone in an instant as he went icy cold and pale. The hard ground under his foot wobbled and Remus had to blink through several breaths until he was steady enough to turn to the voice.

Lucius stood with his hands clasped at his torso, teeth gleaming white under the moonlight as his lips parted on a smile. “Narcissa sends her best, but she will be homebound until the heir is born.”

Remus croaked, the words he wanted to ask — _whose_ _child_, _is she alright_ — stuck in his throat at the insistence of his wolf. The wolf slammed against his chest, growling at the thought of Narcissa, delicate and perfect Narcissa, stuck in the dreary manor under the weighty watch of her careless husband.

“Perhaps allow her a hobby, then,” Remus said, rather than anything else. A lighthearted breath twisted his words into an airy warning, rather than the dire one that lingered behind them. “No doubt she’ll have the devil after you if she’s kept isolated for too long.”

With a parting, lopsided smirk, Remus took a step forward and into the dirt road at the end of the lane. The moment he made contact with the rocky ground, he twisted on his heel and Apparated away.

He appeared at their favorite tree outside the Malfoy Manor grounds in Wiltshire. His wand tapped on its peeling bark three times, the pattern like a mantra for him. No thought required, just  _ tap — tap — tap _ .

She appeared before him silently, pale and exhausted with dark circles under her eyes. Her thick, blonde hair hung long and loose over her shoulders. It must have been kept in a plait recently as its cascading waves were kinked in uniformed lines to her chin.

“Is it true?” He blurted the question even as his hands snatched hers and held them close to his breast. “Are you with child?”

A slow, dark pink smile followed as her dark gaze met his. She ducked her chin once, certain, and her nostrils flared with a breath. “So you met with The Dark Lord tonight.”

He startled. “How did you know?”

Her blue eyes danced and she clenched his hands she pulled herself closer to him. “Lucius is meeting with him this evening. I assume that’s where you found out about it — pardon me, the  _ baby _ .”

Remus chuckled despite the slick of concern that sent his wolf spiraling. She wasn’t a maternal sort; too cold and unaffected. “Lucius warned me that you’re unable to leave the manor until it is born.”

Narcissa’s tongue clicked against her cheek. Her lips pursed and there was an ever so slight tremble in her usual, steady hands. “The twit. Of course he’d find pregnancy to be a delicate condition; it only occurs for a woman, after all.”

“Wanker,” Remus snorted and took tender care to kiss her knuckles one at a time. “Though, this presents a bit of a problem for our situation, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose you’ll need the name of my Floo, lest I get no satisfaction for another four months.” Narcissa stepped closer, her lips hovered near his. Her breath was sweet, like honeyed tea. “You  _ do _ still want to see me, don’t you Remus?”

The wolf and the man were in wild tandem as he lifted her arms around his neck and nuzzled against her throat. She smelled different; a sweetness complimented her floral scent. He knew then why the old tales had said ‘ _ all the better to eat you with.’ _

And fucking hell, when his lips crashed against hers, he knew that he could never refuse her no matter the obstacles in his way. 

* * *

Desolate. Hollow. Void of light. Like waking up in a cave at midnight, new moon high in the sky, and a black hole chasing away any semblance of light that might flicker against the shadows.

When Lily, James, and Peter died, Remus was bereft. Inconsolable.

And fucking livid.

He tore at the chance to get his hands around Sirius’ throat. To tear out the arteries that pumped life through his veins. His wolf thrashed and snarled as Albus warned him away. For a moment, he thought he’d rip through the old man, too.

As he licked his wounds just before the full moon, alone and locked away in his shabby cottage, his heart broke. Over and over as he replayed the moment that Sirius agreed to be the Secret Keeper. His fist slammed against the mangy sofa arm. And then again because the sharp pain in his bones was the only thing keeping him from running through the door and storming Azkaban.

That was how she found him. Purple welts bubbling on the side of his fist. Deep gauges in his arm from the splintering wood through old, weak fabric.

She sat down beside him without a word. Her arms yanked him toward her as he tried desperately to climb away. Her slender, porcelain-like hand met the side of his head and smoothed down the rumpled hair it found. Soft, melodic sounds of comfort issues in short breaths from between her perfectly painted lips.

“You mustn’t torture yourself so,” she whispered as his face turned toward her chest. The pillow of her bosom providing a cushion against his puffy cheeks.

“And what would you have me do?” he mumbled against her soft skin. “Go on as if it hasn’t happened? As if everything I’ve loved hasn’t been taken from me in one fell swoop?”

He raised his head. Flash of yellow in his gaze that was tempered only by the sparkling blue that stared back at him. How this witch could coax emotion from him, when even a spark of it didn’t exist before she entered a room, would be one of life’s mysteries until the day he died. Heat rose from his chest to his cheeks as she ran her fingers through his hair, taking care to rake the sharp edge of her nails against his scalp.

“Yes.” A single beat, as if he should have known what the answer would always be, hung in between them.

“And how would you have me do that?” His eyes darted to her lips, where the dusty pink stain she applied stretched under a sultry smile.

“I would have you do what we all do when we grieve.” Her fingers tugged on the roots of his hair and tilted his chin back so that his throat was exposed. A breeze of her warm breath gusted across his skin and his wolf whined —  _ give it to me _ . “Get lost in something else. Get lost in me.”

They simply stared at one another for a painstaking number of breaths. She was waiting, he thought, waiting for him to decide if he could be this — detached. When he pushed himself away from her side, she exhaled sharply through her nose. Disappointment. Judgement. Cool indifference masking an ache that he could see flicker across her face before vanishing.

He held his hand out to her. His thick, bruised hand that smarted with every twitch of a muscle. She watched it and, with a barely-there lift of her lips, she took it gently. Remus winced but refused to give in to the ache as he leveraged his weight to pull her up and against his body. He left no room between them, hands leaving hers to grip her waist. A breath left her and he swallowed it as he claimed her lips.

It was the wolf that moaned against her tongue. The wolf that dragged her blouse off her torso and ripped the skirt that hid her legs. It was his genius,  _ genius _ wolf that slipped a finger and then two into the lacey knickers that covered her heat and coaxed a sexy little noise from the back of her throat.

“I won’t have control tonight,” he warned her, his voice a harsh rasp against her bejeweled ear. And even as his fingers moved against her, reveling in her velvety warmth, he tried to reason with her. “You’d be safer if you left now.”

“I don’t want  _ safe _ ,” Narcissa argued, though the words vanished as a moan ripped from her lips. She closed said lips over his shoulder, teeth perched against his skin. He’d have marks in the morning, not that he cared. “I want  _ you _ .”

* * *

A small boy, perhaps three, stood as tall as his knees and stared up at him with pointed features and a mop of near-platinum hair. Remus stared down at the boy curiously before he realized that he should smile, at the very least, so that perhaps this timid tot wouldn’t look smell so fearful.

“You’ve never asked,” Narcissa said as her hand ran through the fine hair that hung over the boy’s ears. “Whether you might be…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Remus had wondered often if, perhaps by some cosmic alignment against his very soul, the child could be his. He’d decided long ago that he couldn’t know, couldn’t possibly imagine trying to navigate that disaster. To take the first male born heir away from the Malfoy clan would see Remus hunted, poached, and his fur hung to dry.

Besides, if Narcissa wanted him to be part of this child’s life, she would have said. Never once did she allude to the boy belonging to him, and even the wolf didn’t claim the boy.

Remus shrugged and mussed the lad’s hair with a fond ruffle. “Never believed it was something you wanted me to ask.”

“His father is Lucius.” Narcissa tapped the boy on the shoulder and gestured for him to stand at her side rather than on Remus’ foot. “As part of our marriage bond, I am not able to conceive outside of my marriage. You can imagine why.”

Draco ran forward and stood at the tip of Remus’ foot again. He stared up, unafraid this time, and puffed out his little chest as if trying to mimic Remus.

The boy had no sense of self-preservation; Remus wondered if he’d even be a Slytherin later in life. He smelled… innocent, despite his father. He was more his mother’s scent of lilac, but the sweetness Narcissa had adopted through her pregnancy was far more pungent now that the tot was growing.

The boy pointed at Remus and grinned. Remus felt something cold hit the bridge of his nose and he glanced up. The young Malfoy had used accidental magic to create a miniature snow storm over Remus’ head. The boy laughed and Remus couldn’t help but follow suite.

“Definitely not my boy,” Remus said, turning his gaze to Narcissa with the ghost of his smile still haunting his face. “I didn’t showcase accidental magic until I was eight.”

Narcissa snapped her fingers and a tiny elf decorated in a pristine sheet appeared at her other side. “Take Draco to the music room. His lesson awaits.”

“Ma’am.” The house elf nodded once, took Draco by the hand, and disappeared with a pop.

“Draco has been showing accidental magic since before he could walk,” Narcissa explained, though she appeared more exasperated by it than proud. “Lucius is away on business. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about while he’s away.”

He followed her down the hall and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her arms rested against his as he buried his nose in her hair. “If you wanted me to fuck you in the library again, you only had to ask, love.”

While she didn’t push him away, Narcissa also ignored him. “I need a favor from you, and you must swear you’ll never speak a word.”

His spine straightened and he let go of her. “Whatever you need, Narcissa. Of course.”

She led him through the manor, past closed doors and dining areas, a grand staircase, until they finally reached a room with an ornate door and complicated locking mechanism. Her wand traced an intricate pattern in red light before the lock glowed orange and clicked. She pushed open the heavy door and ushered him inside with a grimace on her face.

The room was cozy. A small armchair in the corner with a roaring fire at its side. The walls were lined with big tomes, all ancient looking. There was a large desk to one side and an ottoman out of place to the side of it. 

Narcissa sat in the armchair and crossed her legs. He had to fight not to focus on the creamy, shapely legs that were wrapped around his middle this time the week prior. He swallowed and grabbed the ottoman, dragging it in front of her before taking a tentative seat. The strict expression on his face gave him pause; she was never so serious.

“My sister has a little girl,” Narcissa said quickly, as if it pained her to say the words. “Nymphadora. She’s a half-blood.”

The room filled with an eerie silence. Remus wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. Witches had children with Muggles and Muggleborns every day. This was not an uncommon occurrence and —

“She’s not safe, Remus.” Narcissa grabbed his hand. It felt like porcelain meeting steel, ice meeting lava. Still, he didn’t dare pull away. “With my other sister and her husband in Azkaban, there’s been talk. They think Andromeda and her family had something to do with —  _ him _ .”

“That’s preposterous.” Remus shook his head, clearing it because the smell of Narcissa’s worry clouded his thoughts. He didn’t like the stench on her; it tainted her light and airy musk with something spoiled. “He’s been gone for years now. Why would they just go after her now?”

Narcissa’s hand tightened in his and he wasn’t sure who was steel and who was porcelain any longer. “The child is a metamorphmagus. There have been whispers — they want to kill the girl to see if it brings him back.”

“I always found it curious why the Death Eaters were so eager to follow a madman, and I believe I have my answer now. There’s no sense among the deranged.” He leaned forward on his knees that crowded her own, and he placed a warm, calloused hand on her smooth cheek. “What do you need from me, love?”

“Would you guard them? Keep them safe for me, when I cannot?” Her cheek snuggled against his hand, her steely blue gaze catching his. 

She pressed her lips into the pad of his palm, just under his thumb. It never failed to surprise him when she was romantic. His breath caught and he swallowed. Claiming her, taking her — he realized now that it didn’t hold a candle to  _ loving  _ her.

“Andromeda won’t like that,” Remus said after a swollen pause. “She’s a lot like you — not in need of saving.”

Her hand wrapped around his and held him in place against her cheek. She smiled, a faint tease of her lips, and her eyes sparkled with the firelight dancing in them. “I wasn’t aware that you were already acquainted.”

“They had a place in The Order.” He watched her carefully; one of their rules had always been that they’d never talk about these things. When she didn’t make a move to stop him, he cut his bottom lip with his teeth and blew out a steadying breath. “Ran a safehouse, actually. For those who were displaced… during.”

“For those who were undercover, you mean.” She lifted one of her winged brows and stared at him until he relented with a slight nod of his head. “And, I assume they had also opened their home to you, a werewolf?”

His eyes clouded. “Against all my best judgment, given they had a small child.”

She’s almost playful in her delivery of a smile. “She must trust you if they allowed you shelter. Andromeda has always valued self-preservation above all.”

* * *

“And then Mad-Eye said that I have real spunk.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus flipped through the latest intel that Albus assembled, lazily bringing his gaze to Nymphadora’s beaming face. “That’s good. I told you that being an Auror would suit you.”

“It helps that I can do this.” Nymphadora squinted her face and suddenly her heart-shape was replaced with rounder, fuller cheeks. Her purple hair turned mousy brown, and her eyes were a dull brown rather than vibrant blue. “I passed concealment with perfect marks.”

“That’s brilliant, Dora, truly.” Remus was distracted as he flicked his eyes back to the papers in his hand and sucked his lips between his teeth. “Bloody Prophet and their lies.”

  
He slammed the papers onto the table. Dumbledore’s notes on Minister Fudge’s ignorance about Voldemort’s return stared him in the face. His livid, snarling face. Even his wolf was on high alert, scratching at the recesses of his mind. Remus reached into his pocket and grabbed a small, golden coin. Hermione Granger’s idea; Protean Charm — bloody brilliant. Even though it was merely a prototype for now, Remus had offered to test it for her. He tapped the coin, satisfied when it heated up, and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Mad-Eye says that we should try and appease the Minister.” Nymphadora chirped her happy song and went on and on and on and  _ on _ . Merlin, the girl never ceased with her chatter. It was driving Remus spare. “He says that if the Minister thinks we’re favorable to Albus, the entire department will be gutted and we’ll lose before we even start.”

“Nympha—” She glared at him and he corrected himself quickly, “Dora, sorry, right. Can you please stay here while I run an errand? Molly would like the kids occupied rather than dwelling on the events at the Tournament.”

“Blimey, Remus.” Dora laughed, a tinkling sound that was displaced in the quiet Burrow. She changed her hair back to a vibrant purple and grinned. “Maybe you need a Pepper Up Potion. You look feral.”

He scowled at her, tipped his chin, and took that as her agreement to keep a watch over the Weasley children. He exited The Burrow and, after reaching a break in the wards, Apparated away immediately.

“Remus!” Her voice was a hiss in the night and he had to orient himself before he could respond to her.

He stood in Knockturn Alley, in a small alcove off the edge of Borgin & Burkes. It was busy, as most places had been since The Prophet ran their story assuring the public that Voldemort was most assuredly not risen. The cobblestone was cracked under his foot and behind him was a long, wide strip of path that probably belonged to a hag at some point judging solely on the litter along it.

But as she stood before him, long and pale hair shining in the darkness, Remus began to calm himself. Soothed, just by her presence.

“Do you understand what’s happening?” she asked him, face pinched and tired. Some of her cool unaffected demeanor had been replaced by exhaustion. “I cannot just Apparate to you on a whim, Remus. It’s not safe. None of us are safe.”

“I’m aware.” He stepped to her and reached out for her hips. Just a moment, just a small nuzzle against her throat, and he’d find the strength to carry on. All he needed was a breath of her, and then he could do what Albus asked and join the werewolf den again. “Your niece is sending me spare and I was in need of a reprieve.”

Narcissa sighed, and even that seemed half-hearted. She held him close and ran her hands through his hair. “I am not going to see you after this. There are…  _ tasks _ being requested of me that demand my attention. Remus, I’m sorry, but this is goodbye for now.”

He thought this might happen. When he’d seen Lucius at the Ministry, smirk in place, the casual way he’d mentioned that The Dark Lord had risen. They’d already swept the home in Little Hangleton. No sign of Death Eaters anywhere. Which meant that Voldemort was closer than ever before.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” His grip on her tightened and it took everything not to growl against her skin and remind her who it was that had claimed her before she’d even married.

“Nymphadora is a grown woman now,” she said carefully as her hands trailed down to his chest. An ache presented there at the thought of losing her. “Perhaps she can keep you occupied until…”

The thought alone silenced his wolf, but Remus rebelled against it. No. He didn’t want the light and airy metamorphmagus; he only wanted the feisty blonde whose hand was inching toward his erection.

* * *

A crack. Distinctly Apparition. Instinct: grab his wand and meet the intruder with magic. Stun first, questions later. Remus gripped his wand so tight that the pores in the wood would leave imprints. He snarled a stunner, but it went wide and over the tall, blond head.

“Lucius!” Remus hissed, a snap of his jaws punctuated his anger. The wolf only thought about the very pregnant woman sleeping a room away. “What the bloody hell are you doing Apparating here unannounced?”

“Need… help.” Malfoy was breathless. He collapsed against the wall behind him and gripped onto the wooden panel to stay on is feet. “Narcissa — Fenrir — The Dark Lord.”

His vision darkened around the edges and he advanced on Malfoy. Remus grabbed him by the arms and slammed him back into the wall. Lucius’ head cracked against it and lolled to the side. He blinked and Remus growled.

“What happened? Where is Narcissa?” He was moments away from murder; it flashed through his eyes and was encouraged by the lupine presence in his mind. When Lucius didn’t answer right away, Remus pushed him harder against the wall. “Tell me, Malfoy.”

“She’s with Greyback,” he muttered in a daze, eyes unfocused and body trembling under Remus’ hands. “Bella and I, we have to go with The Dark Lord and he’s left her alone with that  _ mutt _ .”

The hair at the nape of Remus’ neck stood on end. Blood thundered through his veins. There was a chant in his head —  _ get to her, save her, save her _ — that he couldn’t ignore as it grew louder and more demanding.

He shoved Malfoy back and dropped him to sag against the wall. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Lucius gave him a look, desperate and weary. “Just get to her, Lupin, before that mongrel does.”

The very second that Lucius Apparated away, Remus centered himself and pictured the Malfoy garden. Narcissa’s rose garden, the marble statue of some ancient Malfoy relative, the gazebo with vines running along its latticed walls. He took a step forward, but was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, love?” Tonks’ sleepy voice breathed in his ear even as his wolf whined.

“I have to go,” he bit out, refusing to turn around and face her. The rage on his face, it made him appear vicious. “I don’t have time.”

“To her?” It wasn’t accusatory, in fact it was a hushed whisper. Understanding. Her hold on him tightened for a brief moment and then she stepped away with a hand over her protruding belly. “Please be safe.”

He stepped forward again, the grounds of the Manor clear and precise in his head. Darkness enveloped him, gut twisted as he disappeared from the safehouse and reappeared exactly where he imagined to be.

The tang of blood was on the air, rusty and coppery. His ears perked at the sound of a scream and he ran forward before he could take stock of the area. Remus ran on instinct alone as he dashed through the elegant double doors at the back of the manor and through the hallways he’d come to know well over the years. Narcissa’s pleas grew louder as he ran toward them. When he came to the drawing room, he found it in shambles.

The chandelier was burst into hundreds of pieces on the floor. Scuff marks and scorch marks from spells dotted the walls and the floors. Draco stood screaming in the center of the room, a wand raised at a hulking figure that was advancing toward him.

“Back, you foul dog! Get back, I said!” Narcissa threw a stunner in his direction and it hit, but had no effect on the werewolf. “Draco, you must run!”

But the boy didn’t have time. Fenrir encroached on them like a predator on prey. He snarled and snapped and swiped one of his meaty, clawed hands out toward mother and son.

Remus pounced.

He ripped into Fenrir with his bare hands, pummeling the wolf to the ground. They scuffled along the floor amidst Narcissa’s curses and Draco’s shouts. He didn’t care. Remus only saw red and could only think about murdering his sire for daring to harm a hair on Narcissa’s head.

Remus forgot that he was a wizard, that there was a burning wand in his pocket that begged to be used. He was a werewolf, ready to kill to defend what was his. A claw tore into his cheek and across his chest, but he didn’t stop the fury of fists aimed at Greyback.

When the other werewolf finally fell limp beneath him, Remus rolled off and onto his back. His breath was heavy as he tried to calm himself. The razor sharp demands of his wolf still echoing around his mind. He wasn’t safe, not now.  _ Kill, kill, kill _ .

“Remus?” Narcissa towered over him, pale and ghostly. The notch between her brows drew smaller as she leaned down to lay a slender hand on his forehead. “How — why are you here?”

Draco moved to her back, flanking her as if to protect his mother. He held a wand gingerly between his shaking fingers and swallowed so hard his adam’s apple ran the length of his throat. Remus’ eyes darted between the two and then to the prone werewolf next to him.

“You have to get out of here,” Remus demanded as he sat up and batted Narcissa’s hand away. “Find somewhere — what the  _ hell _ happened here?”

Draco held out a hand to help him up and tossed the wand to the ground. “Snatchers caught Potter, brought them here.”

“Fuck!” It burst out of him, feral and deep. “Floo to Andromeda’s. Do it now. I have to go.”

“Remus!” Narcissa grabbed his hands and he winced. They were lacerated and bruised, dripping onto the dark hardwood floor. “We can’t leave, we can’t—”

“You can and you will. Draco.” Remus turned to the boy with a tight frown on his face. “Get your mother somewhere safe. Do you know where Tonks Cottage is?” Draco nodded once, sharply. “Good. Go there now and don’t come back until your father is back at the manor.”

Remus pressed his lips to the back of Narcissa’s hands. They stared at one another for several beats and then he stepped away.

“Remus, I—“ She glanced back to Draco, an impossible frown on her face. He’d never seen her look so helpless before. It shattered him.

“I know,” he whispered as he reached for Fenrir’s body and held it limply at his feet. Her face disappeared as his crack of Apparation filled the manor.

* * *

There wasn’t a force on the earth that could keep Remus from joining The Order as they fought at Hogwarts. There wasn't a man or spell in existence that would keep him from her.

And, perhaps, that was always going to be his downfall.

Tonks chased his heels as he flew into battle. Wand up and whipping spells through the thick army of Death Eaters and Dementors as they attempted to cut down his friends and comrades. There was no sign of Narcissa anywhere. Thank Merlin she didn’t appear to be fighting. It made it easier for him to cut down the men in robes as they marched through the school.

His thigh burned, red hot heat against his skin, and for a moment he thought a spell hit him in the leg. But, when he reached down, he could see the singed fabric of his trousers where his charmed coin rested against his leg.

_ Narcissa _ .

Remus pressed himself flat against the wall and slunk into a nearby alcove as he fumbled for the coin.

_ Stay safe _ , it read,  _ I’m safe. _

He smiled down at it, knowing she was safe wherever she was. Pocketing the coin, he launched himself from the alcove and back into the battle.

A green jet of light sped by his cheek and he turned, on instinct to see where it sailed.

_ Dora _ . Falling, lifeless to the ground.

He shouted obscenities, wand thrashing to the air to cushion her fall. In some hopeful part of his brain, he’d hoped that maybe he could spare her life if he could keep her head from smashing against the stone floor.

It was too late. She was gone.

Remus tore through the corridor in the direction that the spell had fired from. A tall Death Eater with a painted, golden mask greeted him with a raised wand and offensive gait. Remus held his wand aloft, the name of the dark spell edging toward his lips.

He whipped his wand back, then flung it forward. “Ava—”

The world around him went black as his body crashed to the floor in a graceless arch.

_ And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch.  _

_ Love is not a victory march.  _

_ It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah. _


End file.
